Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)
Morgan passed them in silence as we followed him to the staircase, his Novitiates’ gazes on the group of us as we moved, the city’s Masters together. It was odd, I thought, that he didn’t address his vampires. But if he wasn’t going to talk to them, it certainly wasn’t our job. I wasn’t even sure how much they knew about the Circle, although Will’s and Zane’s absences and Nadia’s attack should have at least tipped them off that something big was happening.
“What’s going on out there?” a vampire called out. “We need some answers, Sire.”
Morgan stopped on the staircase, hand on the banister, and turned back to look at them. We moved out of the way to give his vampires a look at him.
“Something happened here today,” he said, his eyes dark and somber. “Something that was set in motion years ago. It is the result of many years of selfishness and superficiality and, yes, malfeasance. Of greed and short-term thinking. We are investigating the problem, and looking for a solution. That solution may not come today, but when it comes, it will undoubtedly require a change to the way in which we do things here.” He looked around at the marble floors, careful lighting, expensive furnishings. “We may have to examine who we are and what we wish to be.” His voice was soft, wistful, with a heady dose of regret in it.
After a moment, Morgan looked down at them again. “Stay in the House tonight. Don’t leave, even with an escort.”
There was an outpouring of argument, a volley of questions, a few arrows of accusation. Morgan stood there, took the brunt of it, and I caught Ethan’s mild but curious glance.
What are you thinking? I asked him.
I’m wondering if he intends to sacrifice himself for her, and despite all that she’s done to him, and to them.
I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, that he wouldn’t fall on his sword for a person so unworthy. But Celina’s cult of personality was powerful, and if he thought Navarre needed to believe in her, I wouldn’t put it past him to sacrifice the king in order to save the queen. Vampire politics: chess with more fangs.
Morgan lifted his hands to get their attention, and even then it took several seconds for the noise to quiet. “I’ve issued my order, and I’ll update you when I can. Until then, I expect you to behave like Navarre vampires.”
With that, he turned and walked up the stairs.
Yet again, I didn’t envy Morgan Greer.
* * *
Irina and Malik were still in the conference room when we arrived, laptops still open, although the pile of papers around them had grown since my last visit. Juliet still stood at parade rest in the corner, her gaze on the Seconds at their work.
As the Masters arranged themselves around the table, I glanced around the room, scoping out a drink cart or refrigerator. I was parched, and hadn’t had a thing to drink since my running tour of Streeterville. I walked toward Irina, who looked as perfect as she had two hours ago, from her golden hair to her ruby lipstick. I could easily imagine her and Celina as friends or, since it was difficult to imagine Celina having true friends, as confidantes. She was light to Celina’s dark, both of them fashion-forward and gorgeous.
Irina slid her gaze toward me as I approached, clearly unhappy about the interruption.
“Sorry to bother you, but could I get something to drink?” I asked her.
Irina gave me a full up-and-down appraisal before gesturing to the door. “The kitchen’s down the hall.”
I was apparently neither highly ranking enough nor Navarre enough to merit her going to any trouble.
“I’ll take you,” Juliet said quietly, moving near me and gesturing toward the door.
I didn’t want to leave the room without Ethan’s okay, so I waited until he made eye contact, nodded, then followed Juliet out the door again.
“She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?” I whispered as we walked down the hallway. It was empty, but magic and sound from the drama below still filled the air. Navarre’s vampires were very, very unhappy.
“She’s a hateful shrew.” She gestured me to a room on the left with a swinging door. We walked inside, found a crew of white-clad chefs in an immaculate kitchen, every one of them wearing toques, preparing delicate dishes of food over long white counters. They stopped as we entered, watched us carefully as Juliet walked to a large, glass-doored refrigerator, grabbed two bottles of water.
“One for Ethan,” she said, wholly ignoring the stares around her. She handed me one of the bottles and walked back through the gauntlet as if the room were empty, then out the swinging door again.
When it closed again behind us, she shook out her entire body. “Seriously, this place gives me the willies. They’re just so pretentious.”
“Yeah,” I said, uncapping the water. “I get that.” I stopped, took a hearty drink. “Can you imagine living here? Learning to be a vampire in this place?”
“It was her House,” Juliet said, not saying Celina’s name, just as we’d done with Balthasar. “Everything here, every one of them, has been touched by her. And not in a good way.”
“Yeah,” I agreed as we passed a framed line drawing of what looked like a particularly unpleasant erotic coupling. “Not in a good way.”
* * *
When we returned to the room, Ethan, Morgan, and Scott sat in the middle of the table. Jonah had joined Malik and Irina at the end. I gave the bottle to Ethan and took the seat beside him, across the table from Jonah. He looked at me, nodded, and I did the same.